


Part Two: {These Are The Voices with Which You Call Me Home (into your waiting arms)}.

by PassionsPromise



Series: {This Little Frame That Holds Me Is Worth So Much More In Your Hands}. [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sick!Jim, doctor!McCoy, slight-romance (slight!)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 10:51:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7529848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PassionsPromise/pseuds/PassionsPromise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part Two of These Are The Voices with Which you Call Me Home (into your waiting arms).</p><p>After taking Jim home to meet his family, Leonard realises that this Christmas will involve a little more care-giving than he originally thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part Two: {These Are The Voices with Which You Call Me Home (into your waiting arms)}.

**Author's Note:**

> Songs Used: 
> 
> Save Yourself: Birdy.  
> Take My Heart: Birdy.  
> Interstellar: Kyle Landry.

After breakfast (“I swear, Bones was the only one who could stop the flying monkeys, Jo!”/ “Jim, I told you not to bring that one up!”), Leonard found Jim sitting on the long sofa next to the fireplace, grappling with Christmas decorations as Joanna babbled a whirlwind around him. He leaned against the doorway, watching Jim as he interacted with his daughter, and marvelled (quietly) at the change in the Captain. He simply watched the magic as it spiralled out of Leonard’s hands.

“So, you made this?” Jim held up a string of colourful, glittering cups of paper strung together. Joanna nodded, swinging her head around to face her new favourite relative. “This is _amazing_ \- I never made anything like this before- you’re gonna have to show me how to make something like this.”

Leonard wasn’t sure what got him more; the fact that Jim carried his words with genuine sincerity, or the fact that Kirk’s family hadn’t…

“I can show you how- but can we play outside first? It’s snowing, Uncle Jim! It’s _snowing_!” Joanna bubbled, grabbing Jim’s hand and pulling him up off the sofa, and drawing him up toward the door where Leonard stood. Jim’s eyes sparkled when he noticed Leonard standing there.

“Think we could get your whole family involved, Jo- maybe even your dad?” Jim asked, and Joanna skittered to a halt, the magic glowing off her face like an idea that had exploded into a sudden supernova.

“Yeah!” she squealed. “Yes, _yes_ -” she ran off through the house, and Leonard marveled at her sudden vivacity, the brilliant, dazzling starlight that was his daughter.

 

 

 

 

(He didn’t hear Jim’s sudden rasp of breath, though; neither did he see the way Jim grasped at his chest, pulling on the t-shirt he still wore).

 

 

 

 

 

The snow fight was spectacular, a whirlwind of energy and frantic screams and a grasping and fumbling of fingers and hands around cold breaths of wet snow.

Samantha went down first, a flurry of whiskey-bright hair against Rowen’s fire-shot cackles.

“Jesus, you women are so we-“ Rowen started, before Joanna had scored an excellent shot in his backside from ten feet away. Charlie doubled over, his hands grasping his stomach from the comical look on the middle-child’s face.

Jim knew that Bones’s steadiest hands had been passed down to his daughter.

But in between one throw and another, he wandered, a little. They were having so much fun; he didn’t want to spoil it, their… _togetherness_ , their bonding time. It was _their_ Christmas, after all.

There was a forest beyond the McCoy mansion, all coated with the mystic white stuff that cast a winter wonderland in the dim light. Jim gasped and watched the world surrounding him flower with his breath in the hidden darkness. He bundled his neck a little closer to the scarf Bones had lent him.

The tightness in his chest sharpened, but he paid no heed to it.

There was more pain coming, but it was coming slow, and he couldn’t let it show. Not in front of them. Christmas was supposed to be special, perfect. About family, and even though-

He remembered Leanna’s words a few hours earlier. _Jesus._ Their family, opening their home to him at Christmas, just like that…

He couldn’t fuck it up. Not when Bones hadn’t seen his family in over five years, not when he was getting to know his little girl a little better, not-

He swallowed against the pain in his chest, and walked a little until he started to feel the pain ease a little.

“Hey, Jim!” someone familiar called from behind, and he turned-

The smack of cold ice hit his face first, and Jim felt his legs give out from under him, his arms wavering to stay standing, t-

His heart pounded, and it broke into a shattering starburst of white-hot pain in his chest. He couldn’t breathe, he-

A pair of hands grabbed his elbows, pulling him up, but he still slipped and caved under Leonard’s legs, landing hard on the ground. The cold seeped through his jeans, and he shuddered.

“Jesus, kid- you really have let your guar- Jim?”

Leonard’s chuckle gave way when he heard Jim rasp against his arm. The older man felt heat seep through his sleeve, and he cursed.

“Fuck, Jim- what-“

“M’fine,” Jim pulled himself away from Leonard, and a wide grin seeped through the cold water that had melted over his face. “You got me alright- I really wasn’t-“

Jim was silenced when Leonard bent down and felt the back of the kid’s neck, his eyes suddenly blowing wide. _Jesus_ \- that was-

“Get up, come on. Now.”

“Bones-“

“No. _Get up_. Now.”

“But, Bones-“ Jim started, but Leonard was pulling on Jim’s arms, and Jim was being pulled along, and what scared Leonard the most was the fact that Jim was just… _following_. Docile, again.

Like last night.

_Fuck._

He should’ve taken out his supplies- he **knew** this would happen- he _fucking_ knew-

Under his fumbling palms, he grazed a single finger across Jim’s bare wrist, feeling the fluttering of a fever-bright heartbeat against his skin and, secretly, Leonard hoped that, of all Christmases, Jim hadn’t met his family for the first time, only to come down with a goddamn fever.

 

 

 

(Later, he stared at the bright-red numbers flaring across the slim screen in his hand. Under his body, Jim’s cheeks wheezed a dark shade of red as he leaned his forehead against Leonard’s stomach, crumbling under the weight of 103.6- and climbing).

 

 

 

“Will he be okay?” Samantha whispered downstairs. Leonard growled in frustration as he fisted both hands in his hair.

“That fever was building a long while ago and- _damn him_ \- Jim decided he wasn’t going to tell-“

“Is it just a fever, Len?” Leanna murmured, her small hands wringing at the sound of Jim’s suffering.

“No,” he ground out. “It’s _always_ a little more when it comes to Jim. The fever is all I’m reading at the moment, but the second it comes down, there might be something more; he needs a hospital; he can’t break it by himself.”

“What’s the count?” Samantha breathed, her arms folding in on themselves as she slowly came to understand what it was that her brother was saying.

A flash, of Jim holding Joanna in his arms earlier that morning, dappled his mind.

 _Jesus_ , and Jim had been holding that in-

No. _Not then_. After. After his mother held his face. After _all that_ -

Was it in the sitting room, with Joanna- it had to be- Jesus, how did he not notice-

The fever came fast- two hours ago-

Exhaustion. Lack of sleep. Two weeks out and he didn’t _bother_ to check up on him- _like a friend would_ \- like the friend Jim **thought** he was-

“103.6, and counting,” he ground out, “He needs ice, cold water and a hell of a lot of-“

“Cold bath- now,” Samantha ordered, throwing herself into action. “Charlie, Rowen,” she added, pointing to the two men in the doorway, “Take Joanna and keep her busy for the time being- mum, we need new changes of clothes and a ridiculous amount of water- bring up the ice from the cellar, at her younger brother.

“Hey- I know- cold bath, got it,” he said, throwing himself into action and grabbing the balustrade as he started to climb the steps to the first floor.

“I’m going out to grab supplies- Macy’s down the way will be open- she’ll hand me over a few antibiotics-“ Leonard’s father said. Leonard stopped.

“No, wait-“ he bounded down the stairs again, pulling out a notepad, “Here, these are what I’ll need- try and see if Macy’s have them- if not, come back- the snow’ll start setting in after four, and you can’t be out-“

“BS. We’re McCoys; we fight for ours,” Leonard’s father said as he grabbed the piece of paper his son handed him before racing for the door, grabbing his thick jacket on the way.

Leonard stared in complete shock (and a little warmth) at his father’s retreating footsteps; the sound of his gruff voice reminded him of fevers from thirty years ago, reminded him of unspoken promises-

 

 

 

 

(everything would be alright).

 

 

 

 

Leonard carried Jim into the bathroom and stripped him down as the water gushed out of the tap. Sweat clung to Jim’s body, and as he peeled off Jim’s t-shirt, his friend’s sharp wheeze of breath made him clench his teeth all the more.

“ ‘ones-“ Jim murmured against the skin of his neck. “’m _fine_ -“

“Bullshit, you fucking moron,” he growled as he pulled each jean leg off the kid’s body without batting an eyelash.

“-stmas spent wi’ fam’ly- not sick-“ Jim ground out, his body wracked with fever-shot chills.

For a brief second, Leonard pondered how on earth the kid was able to speak through the fever, _never mind speak coherently-_ but, of course, he remembered the abuse from a time so long ago, and he knew that fevers and sicknesses and broken bones and scars, like the ones on Jim’s back, were normal, that pain was, somehow, normal- that everything was-

He was going to murder ‘Fleet for this.

“Couldn’t care less about Christmas knowing you’re sick,” he breathed against Jim’s sweat-slick skin. “Kid, you’re gonna kill me for this, but it’s the only way to get the fever down, alright?”

Jim’s fingers were shaking so hard as they tried to grapple with the skin of Leonard’s arms.

“S-s-sor-“ Jim ground out. Leonard reached and tipped his forehead against his friend’s, and he grabbed and held his hands tight in both of his, waiting until the shuddering stilled a little.

“Shush. Stop that now, darlin’. Nothing to be sorry for. Everyone wants you better, okay?”

He picked Jim’s body up with ease, and stepped a foot into the- **fuck** \- freezing cold water. He laid himself down gently, and the second Jim’s body hit the water, his body seized, and a whimper escaped from his lips, but no other sound uttered out and, for that, Leonard’s heart twinged a little more.

He felt Jim’s body weaken in the water as it tried to tense and, as he slumped down, he wrapped both arms around the kid’s chest, pulling him in close and tucking his head under his chin.

“Sorry, kid. I know it’s a bitch,” Leonard whispered as his body shuddered with the freezing cold temperatures; yet, even still, he could feel the heat emanating from Jim’s body as his breaths came and went in sharp, blistering-hot wheezes for air.

A few minutes later, Samantha knocked on the closed door and put her head in, holding a few towels and clothes for them both.

“How is he?” she whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she sat on the floor next to them both. She took in the threads of scars that littered Jim’s back, and she glanced at her brother; he shook his head. Not now.

“Still too hot. I’ll keep him in here until I can feel a difference,” Leonard murmured, pulling a handful of water and dribbling it down Jim’s boiling neck. Jim’s body seized again. “Sorry, kid.”

“’S’fine,” Jim breathed, shuddering into Leonard’s skin. “Sorry, fo-for ruining your Chris-Christmas-”

Samantha looked at her brother, before she turned her eyes down at the broken sound of the Captain’s voice.

He forced a bark of a laugh. “Jesus, Jim. You, _ruin_ Christmas? You can’t _ruin_ Christmas- it’s just a bloody day off.”

“Mmm,” Jim murmured, “Always ruin everyt-”

Jim’s head slipped. Leonard grabbed him just as he passed out, and as he did, he swore he heard a little part of his already-broken heart snap (again) in two.

“We’re gonna have a fucking party when all this is over,” he breathed, not because he was cold, but the sight of Jim, like this- Jim, their Captain, their lifesaver, their rock- still and frail and sick… (he couldn’t deny it, this was just… what would’ve happened if his mother _didn’t_ invite him over-) it made Leonard _angry._

His purpose in life was to care, to give care (and to love); with Jim, he simply cared (loved), too bloody much.

 

 

 

“Len, it’s down to 102.3. It’s getting better.”

Jim’s slight breaths made Leonard wince, and he drenched the already-wet cloth again before laying it on Jim’s sweating forehead. The bath-water had been topped up three times, and Jim had fallen in and out of consciousness twice, and each of those times, Leonard grasped his face and held him up against his chest.

Samantha placed a hand on Leonard’s freezing-wet shoulder. “I should’ve checked his vitals when we arrived yesterday,” he said, “I would’ve _known_ better.”

“Do you want me to grab Rowen- he’ll be able to take over from you,” Samantha asked, “If-“

“No. I’m staying- has dad returned?”

Samantha shook her head. “No. But he will soon- he called ahead and said the roads were closed, so he’ll be taking the walk through the woods, the usual route during the snowy weather. He said Macy’s had what you asked for.”

Leonard nodded; he knew better than to worry about his father, especially considering the fact that they all knew their limits (unlike the stupid moron underneath him now).

“You go check on Joanna- I’ll be fine here. When the fever hits 100, I’ll be happy with filling him with fluids.” Samantha nodded, before she sat up and closed the door behind her.

“Bones,” Jim muttered, drawing his hands up to Leonard’s, clasping the cloth that still sat against his face. “Ge’out ‘fore you catch a chill.”

“I’m the doctor, Jim.”

“I know- sorry.”

Leonard’s insides twisted, and he ground out, “There’s nothing to be sorry for, kid- get that through that thick brain of yours.”

His words fell on deaf ears; Jim had fallen into the darkness again, and Leonard was left clasping fevered cheeks as Jim’s body became pliant against his.

 

 

 

 

“Get up, you idiot,” Rowen said. Leonard jerked as his older brother gently plied Jim’s body up out of the freezing water. Leonard looked up, and Rowen’s spark-fire eyes stared back as he pulled Jim’s body in close to his chest.

“You _will_ catch a cold if you stay in here any longer.”

“What’s his-“

“100. He’s dehydrated, Len; he needs fluid, and he’ll cool down more we start pumping it into him- have a hot shower before your toes fall off. Everyone’s sitting outside waiting to hear the verdict.” Rowen’s voice was gruff, and Leonard paid no heed to it; he watched Rowen’s strong arms pull Jim into his chest and, as if of its own accord, Jim’s face turned and drew down against Rowen’s neck. “Fuck it,” Rowen winced, “Your nose is _freezing_.”

“’re _warm_ ,” Jim whispered, and Rowen laughed.

“Kid, you tryna tell me I’m hot?”

“’ones’s hotter.”

Leonard flushed, and the heat was welcome. Rowen winked down at him.

“You won’t be saying that once I start filling you with water, kid,” Rowen smiled at Leonard, but by the time he finished speaking, Jim had already fallen into sleep, the wet ends of his hair dripping against Rowen’s shirt.

The breath Leonard had been holding bubbled out of his lungs.

Jesus, at least the fever didn’t kill his sense of humour.

 

 

 

Jim had turned in his sleep as the doctor walked in from his shower, ruffling his wet hair with a towel. The kid was wearing a t-shirt, and the towel Rowen had used to help dry him off lay in Rowen’s hands. The older man cut Leonard a look, a hard one; he had seen the scars, the unhealed ones on his back. Samantha had brought in a few plastic cups full of water with straws in them, and wrapped her arms around her brother as he watched Jim sleep.

“Let’s get this started,” Rowen said, reaching out for Jim’s shoulder as Leonard came to stand next to him.

“I can do this,” Leonard said, but Rowen waved him off.

“Nope. I’m doing this- about time I had some bonding time with the kid.”

“This isn’t something to _joke_ about, Rowen,” Leonard growled, before Rowen cut him with a look.

“I know. I’m not joking; he’s our family,” he answered, as he turned and gently shook Jim’s shoulder. “Rise and shine, princess.”

Leonard watched Rowen manipulate his body around the kid’s, pulling Jim’s body up and against his chest, and gently guiding the straw to his mouth. He reached for the thermometer and lay it against Jim’s neck as the kid swallowed sips of water, and- _thank God_ \- he found 99.7. Getting there.

Jim was out of the danger zone, and the raging fever had gone down without so much of a fight, but as Leonard watched Jim sip his way through the first cup, he knew that the fight had completely left the Captain too.

“How are you feeling, Jim?” Rowen asked.

“Fine,” Jim answered, eyes still closed. “Seriously, you should go down and spend time with your family-“

Leonard killed that one again with the words, “Your blood pressure is low, your oxygen count is low judging by the fact you still can’t hold a proper breath and you need another four cups of fluid in you before I’m happy with your vitals, Jim. You are _not_ fine.”

Jim didn’t bother answering.

When he made his way through the third cup, the steady lull of Rowen’s breathing pulled Jim under again, and while he was out, Leonard readied a sedative that would pull the kid so deeply under he wouldn’t wake for a full six hours.

“You sure about that?” Samantha whispered. Leonard didn’t even realise she was still standing next to him. “We still need-“

“I’ll make up an IV drip for him- I’m pretty sure we have something from dad’s old kits that’ll work. Right now, he needs a godawful amount of sleep before we’ll start seeing results. When he wakes up again, I’ll pump another glass into him and take him off the drip. The reason why he’s sick in the first place is because he didn’t bloody _sleep_ when we got back from the mission.”

“What happened to his back, Len?” Rowen asked, his arms still holding Jim, and as Leonard looked up to him, he heard the slow unhinging of the door as his mother and father stepped in. He took them all in, their worried glances. He clicked his tongue.

“Jim didn’t have a nice childhood, remember?” he said, before his eyes caught hold of Joanna holding Charlie’s hand behind her grandfather. Her eyebrows knitted together; shit. He didn’t want her to hear that.

Rowen’s eyes darkened to a full-black fury, and the protective streak in the older McCoy shone through like a vibrant curse of moonshine. He cursed under his breath. “He’s ours, Len. _All_ ours.”

“You wouldn’t think, would you?” Leanna murmured. “That poor boy must have had a terrible life.”

Joanna looked up to her grandmother, and Leonard reached out as she walked over to him, pulling her close.

“He did,” Leonard answered, “The worst. But he went on to become the Captain of the Enterprise, and he made a family out of the crew. He found something he wanted to protect.”

Leonard knew it, knew it better than anything else he’d ever known in his life; Jim would do anything for his crew, and had proven it so many times it seemed to border out endlessly, a constant litany of prayers against the dark space of night.

Below, Jim’s breaths had evened out, and against the black-as-night sky, and the crisp sheets of newly-fallen snow, his face seemed white-washed by the Christmas that was coming. Rowen’s arms around him gave Leonard comfort; he knew that his family would never let him go, not even for a moment. But it was the desperateness of Jim’s resolve, the remembrance of Jim saying- _“I’m not, though. Not really”-_ on their way over that caught at his heartstrings, that pulled him out in every direction possible.

 _Fuck._ He couldn’t tell the kid he liked him like a brother, not earlier on, not with that fucking reckless, that goddamn hopeless expression on his face. He just couldn’t.

He loved Jim more than a brother. More than a friend. More like a man who needed oxygen to breathe, whose oxygen came from reckless smiles and even more reckless deeds. He needed Jim like a star needed night, he guessed. Like hands needed waiting arms.

“I guess we’ll just have to make sure he knows that he’s ours,” Leonard gritted out. “Every single time he doubts.”

“He’ll _still_ be sick of us by the time Christmas is over,” Samantha muttered, folding her arms against her chest.

“Course,” Leonard replied. “It’s only natural. We are downright monsters at Christmas-time, after all.”

“But we’re also human,” Samantha winked. “And we care and love and protect what is our own.”

Leonard smiled. Yeah; that sounded like the McCoy’s alright.

It sounded like their Captain too.


End file.
